


Cat’s Game

by cosette141



Category: White Collar
Genre: Hurt Neal Caffrey, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 16:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16538012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosette141/pseuds/cosette141
Summary: Peter chased Neal for two years before he arrested him. But just because Peter didn't catch him for two years doesn't mean he didn't get close. One night in a museum outside of the city, Peter and Neal nearly find an end to their long-time game of cat and mouse... and their lives. (Past Neal/Peter story) No slash





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> This story takes place a few years before Peter arrests Neal, back during the time Peter was chasing him. The time of the chase will be more established in the story.
> 
> I have had this idea for years now, and think I finally figured out how to write it out.
> 
> For those of you who are following my other White Collar story, As the Smoke Clears, I haven't forgotten about it! Inspiration for it just seems to come a lot slower for me. But I am definitely working on the next update :)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy~
> 
> ~cosette141

_A tie in Tic-Tac-Toe is called a cat's game._

_Tic-Tac-Toe ties are called cat's games because no matter how hard a cat tries to win against its own tail, it never does. Tic-Tac-Toe itself is a cat-and-mouse game. A game of skill, where the cat goes one way and the mouse another. It is a chase between one player and another, one that can go in any direction, just like a cat and a mouse. Where either the mouse is caught or gets away._

_But when the cat and the mouse are both out of directions, and find themselves at a stalemate, it becomes a tie._

_It becomes a cat's game._

_And the chase either continues…_

_Or it ends for them both._

* * *

It was supposed to be an easy con.

And it was a fairly good plan. Or, well, it should have been.

It was a museum a few miles out of the city. There were only a few guards at night and Neal had already memorized their patrol patterns. He had a solid two minutes alone with the jewel he came here for. In, out, perfect.

And maybe the simple _perfection_ should have tipped him off that something would go wrong.

But it had been too long since the last one. He _needed_ a con. Needed it like air to breathe or water to drink.

So maybe that's why he wasn't as careful as he should have been. Maybe that's why he just had a really, _really_ bad stroke of luck.

Because not a minute and a half of his window of time in the room with the jewel had gone by when footsteps echoed in the large room.

Neal froze. He halted his movement, shut his eyes, muscles tensing. Without even having to turn, he said, "Agent Burke."

The man behind him seemed to find a way to sneak a smirk into the very sound of his voice as he said, "Neal Caffrey."

Neal turned around slowly, not surprised to see that Agent Burke had a gun aimed at him. Pursing his lips slightly, Neal slowly raised his hands, feeling forced confidence somehow find a way into his words. "You look good," he said casually, taking in Burke's suit and tie. Neal cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't have gone with that tie, though." He grinned in amusement as Burke's eyes narrowed slightly and tried to ignore his own nervousness. "Didn't you get the one I sent you?"

Burke pursed his lips into a face that Neal recognized almost every time he caught sight of the agent. It was something close to annoyance. "You mean the Tom and Jerry tie?" asked Burke in monotone.

Neal smiled wider, and shuffled a small step backward. "I think you know which one of us is Tom."

Burke shook his head, adjusting his grip on the gun. "Game ends tonight, Caffrey." He nodded in the direction of the encased jewel. "You here for that?"

Neal shrugged, taking another step backward, cursing himself for not getting out of here quicker.

"Don't move," said Burke, taking a step closer to Neal. They were standing a good ten feet apart, but that was still far too close for Neal's comfort. Burke's footsteps echoed imposingly in the silence. Neal felt himself move backward, despite the agent's warning, shifting his weight seamlessly from one foot to another, toward the hallway to his left. His eyes flicked over Burke's shoulder, almost as if he spotted something behind the agent. "Did you bring backup?"

"Hands on your head, Caffrey," repeated Burke slower, watching as Neal kept his eyes glued to whatever the conman seemingly saw behind him. _Hmm,_ thought Neal with surprise. _He doesn't have backup._

"You're sure?" asked Neal, allowing nervousness to creep into his voice as he stared at the nothingness behind the agent, acting as if he was hoping to fool him.

Burke couldn't resist. He turned to look over his shoulder. An empty room stared back at him and he turned back around.

But Neal was already gone.

* * *

Neal ran.

His feet hit the tile floor rhythmically and his heart beat furiously in his chest. Neal snuck a look behind him, feeling the confidence he'd forced earlier dissipate instantly. He could hear the pounding footsteps of the agent behind him, shouting his name and to "freeze" or whatever. Neal clung to the shadows against the wall of the museum, softening his footsteps but didn't dare slow his pace.

Peter Burke.

Neal hadn't seen Peter Burke since the day he met the agent outside of that bank over a year ago. Sure, Neal had seen the agent from afar, as he watched the FBI run around on searches for him like chickens with their heads cut off. He'd sent the man postcards, souvenirs, even called him to chat just for his own amusement. But this was the second time he'd ever been truly face-to-face with the man. He looked a bit older than the last time Neal had seen him, and maybe a little more put-together, even. And aside from the whole government-agent-who's-hunting-him thing, Neal liked Peter Burke. They, in some weird way, understood how the other functioned. Neal could almost always predict what Peter's next moves were and-though he hated to admit it-Peter was pretty good at predicting Neal's moves, too. More than anything, Agent Burke had been the closest to catching Neal than anyone, and Neal appreciated that. He knew for a fact that someone had to be _incredibly_ talented to come as close as Peter has. Peter made this chase challenging and Neal had to admit…

He liked the game.

Neal took another sharp turn down a shadowed hallway, nearly tripping over himself. He caught himself roughly on the wall and shoved himself forward. Heart tripling in speed, Neal heard Peter shout his name again. He was catching up. Yes, Neal liked this cat-and-mouse game with Peter.

But that was because he had been _winning_.

Neal heard the agent's footsteps coming faster and Neal picked up his pace. Images of rusting jail cell bars and orange jumpsuits suddenly flitted through Neal's mind but he shoved them away. _Relax,_ he told himself firmly, _this isn't the first time you've been chased by a cop._

But… it _was_ the first time he'd been chased by Peter Burke.

Thinking quickly, Neal grabbed the nearest doorknob, and swung open the door, silently grateful that it wasn't locked. He breathed out a sigh of relief as it shut soundlessly behind him. He continued to run, thinking about how much Mozzie was going to lecture him when he got out of this, when he heard a voice speak behind him and the distinct cock of a weapon.

And it wasn't Peter Burke.


	2. Chapter 2

_Neal Caffrey._

Peter kicked himself, staring at the empty space where Neal had been standing seconds before. He took off after the conman, running down the hallway the younger man disappeared down.

Peter hadn't seen Neal Caffrey in ages. He'd only seen what the conman had left behind. Peter had to admit; Caffrey was intelligent. Of course, he would never tell the younger man that, but Peter had to face the facts. Up until now, Peter had had a lingering feeling that maybe Caffrey was simply…

 _Better_ than him.

Peter shook that out of his head as he turned down another hallway, trying to figure out which way the conman went. "Caffrey!" shouted Peter, feeling the physical exertion sap his energy-he hadn't physically chased anyone in what felt like years. "Freeze, Caffrey!"

He knew Caffrey wouldn't listen; Peter had learned that much about the kid. He was a terrible listener. Aside from that, he disregarded just about every rule and law he ran into. Peter had no idea how Caffrey had such a lack of conscience. Or any criminal, for that matter. All his life, Peter couldn't ever break a rule. Not in school, not on the force, not even the house rules Elizabeth gave him. He would _love_ to put his feet up on the coffee table in the living room. But he couldn't.

Because that was against the _rules_.

Peter ran down another hallway, wondering how Caffrey managed to slip past him so easily. He shook his head to himself; maybe that's why Peter had been so focused on Caffrey's capture over any other criminal all this time. He saw potential in the kid, and he thought that maybe if Caffrey spent some time in a jail cell, he'd learn to use his talent for good instead of evil.

Peter dismissed the idea with a shake of his head to himself.

But here he was, following a hunch, devoid of any backup, and he'd finally caught Caffrey. And following a hunch that he didn't even _think_ would lead to Caffrey! He just read about the museum's renovations and the priceless jewel in for only the weekend and assumed some criminal might want their hands on it. To find _Caffrey_ here, of all people? Well, he _had_ been chasing the kid for quite some time. They must be on the same mental wavelength or whatever by now.

After all this time, he's finally come face-to-face with the criminal who's been three steps ahead of him for over a year. And now they were in the same _building_.

"Caffrey!" shouted Peter, knowing he wasn't going to get a response, but was hoping he would. If Caffrey stopped running, then Peter could arrest him and leave out the whole _evaded police capture_ part of this. He'd save him at least a few months' time on his sentence.

Briefly he wondered what he was going to do without Caffrey on his radar. So much free time...

Peter shook his head. He needed this to be over. Caffrey was a criminal, and criminals had to go to jail.

"Come on, Caffrey," he whispered to the empty hallway.

It was time for the game to end.

* * *

"Hey!"

Neal whipped around just as soon as he was shoved against a wall. He hit it hard and nearly stumbled to the ground. He rubbed his bruised shoulder and looked up, finding himself staring into the barrel of a gun. He forced a smile into his expression and swallowed hard. "Evening, sir."

"Who the hell are you?" the man demanded. Muscles rippled across his shoulders and torso, seeming to tighten even as he spoke.

"Funny," said Neal slowly, "I was just going to ask _you_ that."

"Where is it?" demanded the man.

Neal stared at him, trying to ignore the fear crawling through his veins.

He _really_ didn't like guns.

"Where is _what_?" asked Neal, pressing his back into the wall, trying to get as far from the weapon as possible.

The man's grip on the gun tightened, white knuckles growing whiter. "The jewel, damn it! Where is it?"

Neal's eyebrows shot up, and he looked directly to his left. "You mean _that_ jewel?" he asked, pointing to his left. The man turned and Neal ducked under the gun and ran. _Jeez_ people were gullible tonight.

"Hey!" the man growled, and fired after Neal, the bullets whispering through the silencer. Neal reached the door just as a white-hot pain sliced his left forearm and he gritted his teeth, muffling his grunt of pain. He ripped the door open and slammed it behind him and tore down the hallway. He risked a look down, seeing blood stream down his arm. He grasped it, wincing in pain.

 _Find a way out…_ Neal muttered in his head, trying to remember where the nearest exit was.

"Stop!"

Neal whipped around, reacting far too slowly. He was suddenly tackled to the ground. Neal's arm burned as he landed on it. He barely held in a cry of pain, scrambling to push himself off the ground, but someone was pinning him to the floor.

"I _told_ you," panted Peter, his hand on Neal's chest, pressing him forcefully into the ground, "not to _move_ , Caffrey."

Neal cringed as his arm stung sharply and he struggled against Peter's hold on him. "No-" gasped Neal, out of breath. He searched the hallway frantically, looking for any sight of the other thief. "Burke, you don't understand-"

"I _understand_ ," said Peter, clearly pleased with himself, "that you are much more of a sore loser than I would have thought." Peter pulled out handcuffs from his back pocket. "You have the right to remain silent-"

"Burke!" stressed Neal, eyes glued to the empty hallway, expecting a door to burst open any second. That man hadn't been that far behind…

"-everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," continued Peter, cuffing one of Neal's wrists.

"There's another thief here!" exclaimed Neal, still trying to push the agent off of him. "He has a _gun_ -"

Peter laughed bitterly. "I'm not falling for that again, Caffrey."

"I'm not lying!"

"Says the infamous _liar_."

"I'm not-"

Something whizzed past Peter's shoulder, startling both men. Peter and Neal whipped around to see the thief sprinting down the hallway, gun held high.

"Holy…" breathed Peter. "You weren't kidding!" Peter grabbed Neal's-fortunately _uninjured_ -arm and yanked him off the ground. Peter raised his own gun, stepping in front of Neal, but the weapon was instantly shot out of Peter's hand.

"Run!" hissed Peter, and he and Neal turned and ran. The hallway ahead split left and right. Peter started to head left. _Well,_ thought Neal, escape plan forming, _right it is._ Neal started to turn right when he was yanked painfully to the left, almost knocked him backward, jaw dropping in realization. "You cuffed me to _you_?!"

Peter yanked his wrist forward, making Neal follow reluctantly, his wrist and injured arm burning in agonized protest.

"You didn't think I knew you were going to run the first chance you had?" asked Peter through panting breaths. Neal risked a look behind-the man was gaining on them, maybe fifty yards away. "Who the hell is that guy?" demanded Peter. "Do you know him?"

"Of course not!" said Neal as they turned another corner. They drifted slightly apart and Neal stumbled as Peter jerked him again, his injured arm screaming at the mistreatment. "You know I don't like guns!"

"I _meant_ ," said Peter through his teeth, "is he an enemy of yours?"

"No," said Neal, out of breath as they both turned another corner, straight into a dead end. "I've never met him before. He's here to steal-"

"Steal what?" asked Peter, stopping abruptly, making Neal stumble again.

"Uh," stammered Neal. "Nothing. I have no idea what's even valuable in this place-"

"What. Is. It."

Neal shrugged. "The jewel."

"You mean exactly what _you_ intended to steal?" asked Peter, but before Neal could reply, the man came barreling around the corner. Bullets flew, and Peter yanked Neal down to the ground to take cover behind one of the displays. Neal covered his head with his free arm, biting his tongue at the pain radiating from his other. The bullet had skimmed his arm, he realized, looking down at it. It was only a cut, but it wasn't shallow.

Peter twisted around, shouting, "Freeze! Put your weapon down! Federal-" Peter whipped back behind the display as three more bullets imbedded themselves into the wood.

"Hey!" hissed Neal, eyes catching the door in the wall behind them. "There's an exit!"

"All exits are locked," growled Peter, sneaking another look around the display.

"Not a problem," said Neal casually, reaching into his pocket.

" _Caffrey_ ," groaned Peter, as if ready to reprimand him for bad behavior.

"Do you _want_ him to kill us?"

Peter huffed, but let Neal lead him away from the display, both ducking as another bullet struck the display. Neal grabbed his lock picks from his pocket and reached his other hand toward the door but stopped short.

"Uncuff me!" said Neal quickly, risking a glance back as they heard pounding footsteps behind them.

"Caffrey-"

"Fine," spat Neal, twisting the picks in his hand. Within seconds the cuffs released his wrist and he went to work on the door lock.

" _Caffrey_ -!" growled Peter, glaring at his own empty handcuffs.

"Hey, I asked nicely," muttered Neal, getting his picks into place and aligning the pins in the lock. He heard them click faintly and grabbed the handle and ripped the door open as bullets struck the door frame right where his head had been. Neal felt Peter push him through the doorway and slam the door shut.

Cool New York air rushed up to meet them as Peter and Neal ran, feet slamming against the pavement. Neal immediately started running to the right but Peter grabbed his arm and yanked him back to his side, accidentally crushing Neal's bullet wound. Neal cried out, nearly tripping over himself and Peter whipped his head toward the conman, eyes wide at Neal's bloodstained shirt.

"He shot you?" asked Peter, glancing backward again, and then pushing Neal forward anyway.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Neal quickly, arm burning furiously. He tried to yank it out of Peter's grip. "Come on, Burke, just let me go-"

"Not a chance," said Peter, slapping the handcuff back around Neal's wrist. Though he did avoid grabbing his arm near the wound.

"Okay," panted Neal as they ran into the shadowed parking lot. Peter jerked Neal again. They were headed to Peter's squad car. Neal's heart picked up. "Uh-" stammered Neal, trying to think of an escape. "Alright, Burke, you caught me. I'll give you brownie points for this and send you a postcard once you drop me-"

"Prisons don't have postcards, Caffrey," said Peter, as he continued to drag Neal to the toward the waiting car. Peter quickly uncuffed his own wrist and slapped it onto Neal's other wrist, then jabbed a finger at Neal's chest. "Don't pick these."

"Oh," said Neal sarcastically, uncuffing them flawlessly and tossing them back to Peter. "Whoops." He turned to run but Peter grabbed the back of his shirt. Neal grimaced as the jacket pulled on his arm.

Peter noticed. "Are you alright?" he asked gruffly.

"Not really," said Neal, still struggling as Burke dragged him along. "Not when I'm tethered to a _cop_." Neal snuck a look behind them. "Come on, Peter," said Neal, looking at the agent with his best puppy dog eyes. "I thought we were friends."

Peter barked a laugh. "Yeah, right. And it's _Agent Burke_ to you."

Neal pressed a hand over his still-bleeding arm. "Look, Peter," said Neal, cringing as he tried to stem the flow. "Can I call you Peter?"

Peter glared at him. "No."

"You see, Peter," continued Neal, wondering how the older man's grip was _that strong_. "I really don't want to go to prison. Now, I haven't ever killed anyone, right? Never blew anything up-well…" Neal hesitated at Peter's incredulous expression. "I'm not a bad guy, okay?"

"What did you blow up?!"

"Let's just write this off as a warning," continued Neal, ignoring the agent, "and I promise it won't happen again."

Peter laughed. "Not. A. Chance."

Neal jerked in the grip again, but Burke held tight. Neal's heart slammed against his chest. He couldn't go to jail. He couldn't leave Mozzie all alone. He couldn't serve years trapped in a tiny, metal box…

"Peter-" Neal tried again, desperation creeping into his tone.

"No, Caffrey!" exclaimed Peter. "You had your chance! In fact, you've had dozens of them! You sent my team on wild goose chases, dead ends, you've been taunting the FBI-"

Neal shrugged. "I've only really been taunting _you-_ "

"-and you've had plenty of chances to turn yourself in-" Peter cut himself off as he something whizzed over his shoulder and they both jerked.

It was a _bullet_.

"Damn," Peter hissed, then jerked Neal again, harder, finally making it to the car.

Peter ripped open the passenger door. "Get in!"

Neal gave him a look that would have been just as appropriate as if Peter just told him to pay for something.

Peter let out an exasperated sigh. "Get _in_ , Caffrey!"

"I'm not going to prison!" stated Neal firmly, but both of them ducked as the backseat window of the car shattered. Broken shards of glass rained down on them as they both ducked for cover.

 _Well, no better time to say goodbye,_ thought Neal. He got up to run but a hand closed down over his bad arm and he was yanked back to the ground, and he let out a pained cry. A second later another bullet soared an inch above where his head had been.

"Do you _want_ to get shot?" demanded Peter, then glanced down at the blood seeping from Neal's arm. "...Again?"

Neal jerked against the grip but it he groaned; Peter was holding him right over the wound. The pain sprang tears to his eyes. "Let me _go_ , Burke!" he demanded. "I'm not going to prison!"

"Well, pick one, then! It's either prison or a bullet!" shouted Peter.

Neal narrowed his eyes in thought.

"Don't tell me you have to _decide_!"

Burke _did_ have a point… a bullet was a little less appealing than prison. And besides, he could find another escape after they lost Shooty McShooterson.

"Fine." Neal let out a huff of a breath, shocking himself as he rose and dove into the car.

He pulled the door closed just as a bullet imbedded in the door.

The driver's door opened just as quickly and Peter threw himself in, jamming the key into the ignition. The car roared to life and tires squealed as he stomped on the gas pedal.

"Why the hell is he following _us_?" asked Peter, almost to himself as he sped through the wide parking lot, the dark forest a pitch black canvas beside them. "I thought you said he wanted the jewel!"

Neal looked at him from where he was trying to stem the bleeding in his arm and his heart stuttered against his chest. He swallowed. Hard. "Uh-no idea…"

"Why didn't he just go for the jewel and then escape?" wondered Peter aloud, face screwed up in confusion. "He could have just taken it…"

"Yeah." Neal bit his lip. "Weird."

Peter turned toward the conman, splitting his gaze between the windshield and Neal, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What? What did you do?"

"Me?" asked Neal, eyebrows shooting up in innocence. "Nothing."

"Caffrey!"

"Okay, okay," said Neal quickly. " _Maybe_ the jewel in the case at the museum isn't quite… _authentic._ "

Peter gritted his teeth. "You didn't."

"Uh," hesitated Neal, feeling all too aware of the slight pressure of the jewel in his pocket. "I might have… accidentally… replaced it with a… forgery-"

"You have the jewel?!" exclaimed Peter, gaping at Neal.

"Well, yeah!" defended Neal. "You stopped me on my way _out_ of the museum!"

Peter slammed a hand angrily on the wheel. "Damn it, Caffrey!"

"Well," said Neal quickly, suddenly feeling like he was being told off by a parent for getting bad marks on a test. "Doesn't it make you feel better that _I_ have it instead of our trigger-happy friend back there?"

"No, it doesn't!" exclaimed Peter, exasperated. "I would feel better if it was back inside the _museum_ , you were back wherever you came from and I was at home watching the game!"

"See!" said Neal with a charming grin. "I knew you didn't want to arrest me."

"Caffrey!" growled Peter angrily. But suddenly a bright light burst from behind them and they both jerked around.

Headlights.

The thief was chasing them. _Still_.

Fear seized Neal's chest. The thief was gaining on them. Fast. Almost as if he was planning to...

"Burke," he began fearfully.

"I know." Peter floored it and the car sped faster. But the light was coming closer and before Neal could prepare himself, the vehicle struck the back of Peter's car, sending it spinning off the tarmac and into the edge of the forest, where the edge of the land dropped away into a steep hill.

Then there was falling.

And then there was nothing.


End file.
